


Two Minutes for Slashing

by ThoseDaysThatWill



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Boston Bruins, Calgary Flames, Carolina Hurricanes, Dallas Stars, Edmonton Oilers, Gen, M/M, Montreal Canadiens, Nashville Predators, Philadelphia Flyers, Toronto Maple Leafs, Winnipeg Jets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 12,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17930756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseDaysThatWill/pseuds/ThoseDaysThatWill
Summary: A series of hockey-related one-shots (usually under 1,000 words) that need a home.Chapter 1: Ryan Johansen and Kevin FialaChapter 2: Jamie Benn and Tyler SeguinChapters 3 and 6: Auston Matthews and Matthew TkachukChapter 4: Blake Wheeler and Mark ScheifeleChapters 5, 8, 10, 13, and 15: Ben Chiarot and Sami NikuChapter 7, 11, and 14: Brandon Tanev and Adam LowryChapter 9: Winnipeg Jets EnsembleChapter 12: Shea Weber and Roman JosiChapter 16: Connor McDavid and Leon DraisaitlChapter 17: Blake Wheeler and David KrejčíChapter 18: Nolan Patrick and Travis KonecnyChapter 19: Dougie Hamilton and Andrei Svechnikov





	1. Ryan Johansen and Kevin Fiala, Nashville Predators

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On February 25, 2019, Kevin Fiala was traded to the Minnesota Wild, for Mikael Granlund._

“I don’t want to!”

Ryan sighed. Truth be told, he couldn’t exactly blame him. _Most_ people didn’t want to be traded. He looked down at Kevin, sitting defiantly on the couch. He wasn’t sure how a person could sit defiantly, but somehow, he was. He was one step from crossing his arms and holding his breath.

“I get that. I—”

“No! You _wanted_ to be traded! I didn’t want to! I don’t even know where Minnesota is!”

Ryan took in a deep breath. Why was this his job? Where was Roman? They could be doing this in their own language even. But for some reason, he had been elected to show up on Kevin’s doorstep. “Yes, you do. You’ve been there.”

“I might have been there. But I haven’t _been there_.” That made sense in Kevin’s mind.

Ryan wasn’t going to argue that point. “It’s near Wisconsin.”

Oh boy was that the wrong thing to say. Kevin’s eyes went wide, “Oh great! I just _loved_ Milwaukee! It was _wonderful_.” He huffed and actually crossed his arms, slumping back against the couch. He barely mastered the English language, it was fifth on his list, but he could do sarcasm in all of them.

“It’s _not_ Milwaukee, though. It’s still the NHL. You’ll be fine.” Ryan sat beside him on the couch.

Kevin sighed, “Why did it have to be _there_?! With _him_.”

Ryan tried very hard not to roll his eyes, “You don’t know _him._ You never even played with him. You barely played with Shea.”

Logic wasn’t what he was looking for. Kevin didn’t bother to not roll his eyes. “Maybe not, but we all know!”

“But we only know one side of it. Maybe there’s… another side? I mean, it worked out good for Roman, right? Well, kinda.” This was not Ryan’s area of expertise. He could do relationship advice, he could do scoring slumps, he didn’t know what do with a trade to your captain’s ex’s ex’s team. He glanced around, for something to change the subject, “Where’s the furball?”

“With her. I’m just going by myself.”

“Are you sure?”

Kevin nodded, getting up to check the bag he’d already checked twice. “Yeah. For now anyway. Who knows if I’m even staying. No sense in moving everything if it’s just a couple months.”

“Maybe you can come back.” Ryan offered.

Kevin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, “Yeah, maybe.” He sat back on the couch, “Don’t like the new guy, okay?”

Ryan gave a soft chuckle, “I’ll try really hard not to like him.”

Kevin gave him a hollow smile, standing up, “I guess I should go.”

“You ready? I’ll drive you to the airport.” Ryan stood too, pulling his keys from his pocket.

Kevin quickly shook his head, “No, I don’t want you to.”

Ryan could tell Kevin’s eyes were starting to get red, and he understood. He took his hat off and put it on Kevin’s head, backwards. It wasn’t until he saw it on him that he realized he’d grabbed that yellow one. He hadn’t planned it, but he was glad. “We’ll see you next week. You’ll probably be friends with everyone by then. You can introduce us around.”

He nodded but didn’t speak. Ryan could tell he was trying very hard to hold it together. He stepped closer and pulled him into a tight hug. Maybe he had caused some issues, maybe they weren’t his fault. At the end of it, he was a kid that was getting ripped from the only NHL team he’d known and tossed into the unknown. And that was scary.

Kevin stepped away first, “See you next week.” He wiped his eyes quickly.

“Good luck, Kev.” Ryan lingered a moment and then turned for the door.

“You too. Thanks.”

Ryan glanced back at him, trying to offer a comforting smile that he didn’t feel. Without another word, he walked out, closing the door behind him.

It wasn’t until he heard the door latch that Kevin let himself cry.


	2. Jamie Benn and Tyler Seguin, Dallas Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On March 2, 2019, Jamie Benn scored a hat trick against the St Louis Blues, after having missed the previous two games to injury._

The team had won—beaten the Blues again!—and spirits were high. They were holding their wild card spot! But the loudest voice in the room belonged to Tyler.

“HAT TRICK!” He screamed over and over. “MY BOY GOT A HAT TRICK!”

Jamie sat at his stall, head ducked down. He bit his lip against the grin. His mind was full of the advice he’d heard over the years, repeated now in a dull echo. Tired clichés that he was told were only common because they were true. _Act like you’ve been there before. There’s no I in team. Play for the name on the front, not the name on the back._ Coaches, parents, teammates, well-meaning and helpful, molded him into the player he was now. They were why he had the right to wear the C for a team like this. They knew what they were talking about.

He felt Tyler’s arm drape around his shoulders, “HAT TRICK!” He yelled, louder than he needed to be. Tyler always got victory-drunk, Jamie was used to it. He knew to lean his ear away.

“We did—” He started.

“NO!” Tyler stood up on the bench beside him, “OUR FUCKING CAPTAIN GOT A FUCKING HAT TRICK!” He announced, as if the assembled team hadn’t been on the ice with them. Jamie pulled him back down beside him to the sound of scattered cheers and hollers.

“Stop that!” The pink in Jamie’s cheeks couldn’t be completely blamed on the game.

Tyler laughed, “NO! Not until I hear _you_ say it!” His hand snaked around the back of Jamie’s neck because it was nearly impossible for Tyler to sit next to him and not touch him. Sometimes even when the cameras were rolling.

“We _all_ did well!” Jamie reminded him. “I wouldn’t have scored if not for you and John and everyone. We wouldn’t have won if Ben didn’t stand on his head.”

Tyler rolled his eyes, “Save that shit. The press’ll be in here soon enough. You just came back from a damn injury! You gotta say it! C’mon, baby, say it!”

“We _all_ had a good game.”

Tyler pulled his hand away, “Jamie Randolph Benn, you fuckin’ say it!”

Jamie ducked his head again; the grin was fighting hard against the bite his teeth had on his bottom lip. “Okay, okay… _I_ had a good game.”

“And…?”

Jamie peeked up at Tyler. His wide-open grin made it impossible not to smile back. It was one of the first things anyone noticed about him. And one of the reasons Jamie needed him around so badly.

He took in a deep breath, “And… I scored a hat trick in my first game back… against the Blues.”

“Because you have their fucking number!” Tyler announced, loudly.

Jamie laughed, “Well… maybe.”

Tyler leaned over and kissed him, all too briefly. “Now get your ass changed, you’ve got a shit ton of people that wanna tell you how you’re the best Star that’s ever laced up!”

Jamie laughed that comment off. He reached over to Tyler’s stall and stole his hat, putting on backwards. He knew full well he wasn’t the best, but maybe… maybe today he could indulge in thinking that he’d at least make the list. Tyler had a way of doing that.


	3. Auston Matthews and Matthew Tkachuk, Toronto Maple Leafs and Calgary Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On March 4, 2019, the Leafs played the Flames. During the game, Nikita Zaitsev got an elbow up into Matthew Tkachuk's face._

“He elbowed me in the goddamn face!”

“I saw.”

“He should have got a fucking penalty for that!”

“Yeah, probably.”

“It hurt!”

“Are you okay now?”

“Yeah, but I had every right to fight him!”

“He thought he had every right to do what he did.”

“What did I do to him?!”

“You were kinda all over me.”

“That’s my job!”

“Well, defending us is his job.”

“He didn’t need to elbow me to do it. I have a right to be pissed about that!”

“That’s fair.”

“And I should get to fight him! So why the fuck did you stop me?!”

“Because he wouldn’t have fought you. And you would have gone to the box and he wouldn’t have. I’d rather play against you than have you sit for two minutes.”

“It would have been worth it to punch his face in.”

“Wasn’t the goal a better revenge?”

“Maybe. But I still wanted to punch him.”

“So, you punched John instead.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Did he say something?”

“Not talking about it.”

“Fine. Can we go now?”

“I still didn’t get to punch the little shit! I want to!”

“You can either punch him or kiss me.”

“I can do both!”

“Not tonight you can’t.”

“Fine. I’ll punch him later.”


	4. Blake Wheeler and Mark Scheifele, Winnipeg Jets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On or around January 9, 2019, Blake really did do[this](https://66.media.tumblr.com/6a3ed544c2cf66aa54a1906ea9fe7a11/tumblr_pl3crjPty71umd8ip_400.gif) during a game._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was requested by Ju. The prompt was "pining" and the pairing was Blake/Mark. It's not, exactly. The POV is a little scattered.

"I need to talk to you." Mark's hands were on his hips. That was never a good sign.

Blake paused a moment before he glanced up. He had to make sure he wouldn’t start laughing. He had a pretty good idea that wouldn’t help anything, and he knew he was already in trouble. "Okay, go ahead." 

Mark looked around. Half the locker room had paused or slowed their undressing to watch what was about to happen. They had already been whispering about it on the bench. Not one of them was subtle about it. He shook his head. They were already going to be the talk of the locker room for a couple days, he didn't need anyone to hear the details. And if he was about to embarrass himself, he didn't need it to be in front of anyone else. That he had to deal with this with Blake was enough. "Somewhere else. One of the offices." 

Blake bit his lip against the grin, "Sure. Let me get changed and I'll meet you."

"Can we just... talk right now?" Mark gave him that look that he hoped implied without saying that he knew exactly what would happen if he let Blake go off to shower. This needed to be dealt with right now. It wasn't often that Mark used the A they stitched to his jersey off the ice, because it wasn't necessary (except with Andrew, but that was another story). Today would be a day he'd need to use it. The weird part was that he'd be using it on his Captain. Nothing awkward about that at all. Mark wished he had a dollar for every time he wondered ‘why me?’

Blake bit down harder on his lip, but the grin was going to escape regardless. He tried to look serious and not like a six-year-old that was about to be scolded for something he’d absolutely do again. (He had no idea where Louie got that look from.) "You want me to walk, in my gear, to an office? To _talk_? And you just can't wait?" He might have said that a little too loud, and it might just have been on purpose. If a specific pair of blue eyes were glaring at them now, he pretended not to notice. 

Mark sighed, “Do you have to do that? Just… go over there.”

Blake coughed over the laugh, “Yes, sir.” He stood and headed for one of the side offices. He caught Bryan’s look as he passed his stall and tried to suppress the snicker at the roll of his eyes. He had been around even longer than Blake had, he knew exactly what was going on in everyone’s life, and he knew to stay as far away from the drama as he possibly could. He also knew Blake enjoyed being right in the middle of it.

Mark closed the door behind them, “Are you… are you out of your mind?!”

Blake dropped down onto the couch to continue taking the tape off his socks, “Sometimes. Not usually, though.”

“Blake! You _kissed_ me. On the ice.”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow, “Did I?”

“Oh no, no, you’re not getting away with that _this_ time. You did and you know you did! Why?”

Blake leaned back on the couch, “Because he thinks I want you.”

“ _Do_ you?” The words were out of Mark’s mouth before he could stop them, and he could feel his cheeks go bright pink. “Uh, I mean…”

Blake laughed, “I haven’t missed the fact you’re attractive, if that’s what you mean. But no, I don’t. I have my hands full as it is.”

“That was my next comment. So why did you kiss me?”

“I told you already.”

Mark shook his head, taking in a slow deep breath. He was being like that on purpose, and Mark wasn’t going to let it get him flustered. He’d known Blake too long for that to work on him (anymore) like it worked on the new kids. “I _know_ what you said, but that doesn’t make sense. Would you like to explain it to me?”

“Not really.”

Another deep breath, “But you’ve involved me.” He moved to sit beside Blake on the couch, “Can I guess? And if I’m right, will you tell me?” Blake nodded, so Mark continued. “He was flirting with Nik.”

Blake nodded.

“And Nik flirted back.”

Blake nodded.

“And you decided to use his jealousy of me to get back at him because you’re jealous of him flirting with Nik?”

Blake paused a moment, frowning, then nodded. He looked up at Mark, the realization of how he’d used his friend clearly all over his face.

Mark shook his head, “Next time, will you _warn_ me, please?”

A smile slowly spread over Blake’s lips, “Yeah, okay. Sorry about that.”

Mark couldn’t help but smile back, “It’s okay. So… you want to finish getting changed in here? That should be just about enough time.”

Blake laughed, “I knew there was a reason I like you.”


	5. Ben Chiarot and Sami Niku, Winnipeg Jets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sometime in March 2019, in Winnipeg..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a song prompt, from Anonymous. The song I got was "Confession" by Florida Georgia Line.

The calendar might have said spring, but whoever controlled Winnipeg weather didn’t seem to understand what that really meant. All the same, this was the first night, in what seemed like forever, that Ben could be outside without a parka and a blanket. Winter only lasted a few months, but Winnipeg packed a lot of cold into those months. It wasn’t a complaint, really, just a fact. But now it was spring, so he was sitting out on his back porch, looking up at the night sky. The wind was still cold, but it felt good. The moon was full, or nearly full, and provided all the light he needed.

_I'm out here trying to get untangled_  
_In the darkness on the edge of town_  
_A little lost, a little found_  
_Waiting on a call from an angel_

Ben let his head fall back, resting against the cushion behind him. It was always impossible to clear his mind, but for the first time in his life, what was dashing around his brain wasn’t hockey. It had nothing at all to do with hockey. His head was full of bits and pieces of a language he had never intended to learn. It was full of images of a slightly cocky smile, that at the same time had notes of something else that was meant only for him. He could feel a pair of lips on his, a kiss like he had never shared in his life. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get Sami out of his mind. In truth, he hadn’t tried very hard.

“Miksi olet täällä?” Sami’s voice came from the sliding glass door behind him.

Ben couldn’t help the smile at what he discovered when he looked towards the sound of his voice. Sami had taken the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders. Beneath it, Ben could see a pair of pajama pants that he was reasonably sure came from his own drawer. Sami was barefoot and shirtless, a decision he was clearly regretting as he wrapped the blanket tighter around himself.

“Why what?” Ben asked. That was one of the few words he knew, because it was the one Sami probably used the most when he tossed Finnish purposefully into their conversations. He had so many questions when they talked about hockey, always pushing Ben to explain _why_ he would react a certain way on the ice, or why he wouldn’t. Sami made him think about hockey in ways he hadn't in years.

Sami laughed, which was Ben's reward for getting at least one Finnish word right. Braving the cold, he stepped further out onto the porch, “Why are you here?”

Ben held his hand out to him, but Sami ignored it. Instead he moved to straddle Ben’s lap, wrapping his legs around the back of the chair, opening the blanket to wrap him up in it too. He leaned in, pressing close to him, stealing a kiss before Ben could answer his question.

Ben slid his arms around him, his cold hands running over the warm skin of his back, laughing at the shivers he caused, “I was just thinking.”

Sami made a face at that, “Why could you not think in bed?”

“I don’t know. I just like getting air sometimes.” The truth, of course, was that it was completely impossible for Ben to think of anything coherent while laying next to Sami’s naked body.

Sami rested his head against Ben’s shoulder, murmuring softly against his neck, “En pidä siitä, jos et ole siellä, kun herään.”

Ben tipped his head against Sami’s, closing his eyes, his voice soft, “I didn’t understand that.”

“You will.” He placed a light kiss on the side of his neck.

Sliding a hand into Sami’s hair, Ben nodded, “Someday.”


	6. Auston Matthews and Matthew Tkachuk, Toronto Maple Leafs and Calgary Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On March 16, 2019, the Toronto Maple Leafs lost to the Ottawa Senators, 6-2._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a song fic prompt from Ju. The random song was "High Flying, Adored" from the musical Evita. The pairing was Matt and anyone. Clearly that has to mean Matt and Auston.

_You won't care if they love you, it's been done before_  
_You'll despair if they hate you, you'll be drained of all energy_  
_All the young who've made it would agree_

There was never any doubt going into that draft that Auston would go first. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t Canadian, he was clearly the best thing anyone had seen in years. And it wasn’t that Auston was too was egotistical (maybe a little) but Matt went out of his way not to talk about it. The press couldn’t shut up about him, comparing him to nearly every forward that had ever laced up it seemed. They were all wrong, of course. He didn’t play like anyone. He played like Auston, that’s why he was so good.

Fast forward a year and a half, the reviews were mixed. It was Toronto, of course they were going to be mixed. He was the best Leaf in hockey history. He wasn’t even as good as his linemates. He didn’t care enough. He cared too much. He didn’t smile enough. He wasn’t taking things seriously. Matt and Auston had made a promise before the draft that they wouldn’t read any press about themselves. And if they did, they wouldn’t talk about it.

“Hey, babe.” Matt plopped down onto the still-made hotel bed as he answered the call.

“Am I boring?”

Matt choked on a laugh, “Uh… no?”

“Is that a question?”

He sighed, “What’s this about? Did Brady say something? ‘Cause I can kick his ass if I have to.” Matt hadn’t had time to check the box scores before the phone rang, but he knew his boyfriend was playing his brother’s team today.

Auston made a disgruntled noise, and Matt could be reasonably sure he was rolling his eyes too. “It’s not about Brady. The game sucked, but it wasn’t his fault.”

“Okay, so who said you were boring?”

Auston sighed heavily, “I guess they didn’t say boring exactly. They said I’m not passionate. That I should have been more upset when we were getting our asses kicked. And I should have been happier when we’re not. Or something like that.”

“Wasn’t one of your selling points at the draft that you’re really even-tempered?” Matt pointed out, not for the first time.

“Yeah. You only remember that because it wasn’t one of yours.”

He laughed, “Maybe. But they knew what they were getting when they picked you. What were they expecting? That you were gonna go get into a fight or something?”

“I don’t know. I doubt it. I guess I was supposed to yell or something.” He sighed, “I’m _tired_.”

“You remember we weren’t supposta listen to the press shit? You remember why?”

Auston grunted but said nothing.

“Because they’re a bunch of idiots that have never played a single game. The only one you’ve gotta answer to is you. You’re playing the best you can. I know it, I see you. I’d know if you were half-assing anything and I’d call you out on it. That’s all that counts. Fuck the rest of it.”

“When did you get wise?” He could hear the beginnings of a smile in Auston’s voice.

Matt laughed, “You have to, when you’re dating a _superstar_. Those diva types need to be talked out of the clouds sometimes.”

Auston laughed, too, which was just about the best sound Matt could have heard right then. “Speaking of clouds, we’re getting on the plane, so I have to go.” He paused. “Thanks. I love you.”

“I love you too. Text me when you land.”

“Like always.”


	7. Brandon Tanev and Adam Lowry, Winnipeg Jets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On January 19, 2019, Adam Lowry wore a Los Angeles Dodgers hat in an interview._

“I can’t be with you if you’re a Red Sox fan.”

Brandon blinked his eyes open, trying to figure out what Adam was talking about. It was too early in the morning for Adam's non sequiturs. He tried to focus in on the hat in his hand. _Oh, yeah._ Honestly, he’d forgotten all about it after tossing it one of his drawers. He didn't keep most of the hats his teams gave him, he wasn’t much of a hat person, but he wasn’t about to throw _that_ one away.

It was the first team event, back in college, where he really felt included. He was too old to be a Freshman, and Canadian. (A lot of the other Canadians on the team were French, and Brandon was certainly not French.) Most of the team were locals, as compared to him, which seemed to mean they were also Red Sox fans. He wasn’t sure why that was supposed to have been obvious, but by their reactions it was. One weekend, they were all driving up to Boston to watch a game at Fenway Park. This was also supposed to mean something to him too, by the tone of their voices. It didn’t, but he was glad they wanted him to go. So, he went.

Noel had handed him the hat as they were walking from the lot to the park. He looked ‘too Canadian’, Noel told him. It was only then that he noticed that all of the guys were sporting Red Sox t-shirts, a few even had jerseys, and all of them had hats on. Brandon’s own black and white Providence shirt did stand out among the blue and red. He wore the hat. He remembered how much Noel had smiled at him when he did.

But now was not the time to think about Noel or his smile. Adam was standing, naked, in his bedroom, with that very hat in his hand and a look of annoyance all over his face. Brandon hadn’t moved from where they’d fallen asleep last night. As wakefulness slowly filtered back, he sat up. He remembered Adam’s rants from October, but he hadn’t cared much about either team, honestly.

“You were going through my stuff?” He asked, not angry, more surprised.

Adam shrugged, “I was looking for pajama pants.” His tone suggested that it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

Brandon wasn’t exactly an expert in bringing someone back to his apartment (he could count the number on one hand, with fingers left over, not including college), but he was pretty sure that they weren’t supposed to go through his drawers while he was asleep. He rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up further. He gave Adam a purposefully once-over, “What were you going to do with pants if you found them?” He asked with a grin.

Adam laughed, “Okay so they woulda been like shorts, but I wouldn’t have been naked. And I didn’t feel like getting dressed yet.”

“You’re not _that_ much taller than me.” Brandon rolled his eyes. “Just come back to bed. You don’t need pants here.”

“Oh no,” Adam shook his head, “You need to explain this.” He shook the hat at him.

Brandon laughed, “College.”

“You did college?” Adam frowned, clearly trying to remember if he already knew that. “You’re Canadian.”

Brandon couldn’t help but laugh again, “Yeah, I know. Canadians go to college, too. Your _brother_ went to college.”

Adam shook his head, “My brother is a freak. Canadians do Juniors.”

Brandon laughed again, “Oh, okay. So, I guess I have to give up my citizenship.” He paused, and grinned, “Though, y’know, only one of us in this room was _born_ in Canada, so—”

Adam’s glare cut him off. “It’s not _my_ fault I was born when we were Blues!”

Brandon crossed his arms with a smirk, “Let’s see… I was born in Canada, I went to college. Joel was born in Canada, he went to college. You were born in the States…”

“Oh, shut up.” Adam yanked the blanket off him, “You’re changing the subject. You still need to explain _this_. And ‘college’ is not enough of an explanation.”

Brandon shrugged, trying not to laugh at the gesture. “Noel gave it to me when we went to a Red Sox game.”

Adam tossed the hat onto his dresser, “Oh, _Noel_.” He rolled his eyes.

“What’s _that_ about?” Brandon asked, raising an eyebrow.

Adam moved closer to the bed, “Nothing.”

Brandon looked up at him in something close to shock, “Was that…?”

Adam huffed, and dropped down over him, pushing Brandon onto his back, “It’s _nothing_.”

Brandon slid his hands over Adam’s shoulders, smiling, “Are you…. _jealous_?”

“Of course not.” He leaned in, biting hard on Brandon’s shoulder. “Should I be?”

Brandon’s eyes fluttered closed, as he moaned out loud, his back arching towards him. “W-what?”

“Exactly.” Adam ran his tongue teasingly over the mark he’d just created, “And you know which team is the best, right?”

“Mmhmm.” Brandon replied, curling his legs around Adam’s, more than a little dazed.

“ _Mine_.” Adam whispered, before leaning in to kiss him deeply.


	8. Ben Chiarot and Sami Niku, Winnipeg Jets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This is set sometime in the winter of 2018-19, in Winnipeg..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the result of the prompt “Nothing is wrong with you.” and Ju's request of Ben and Sami.

“Minä _kuolen_.”

Ben rolled his eyes, “No, you’re not.”

Sami had been muttering the same sentence over and over until Ben finally broke down and tried to sound it out to look it up. He’d used the ‘a’ with the umlauts and felt a silent moment of pride when he was right about that. That was a word he not only knew what it meant, but he could _spell_ it. That was rare for Finnish. He had already installed the keyboard on his phone. It wasn’t too different except for three letters he barely knew how to use. He was, however, able to sound out ‘minä’ and ‘kuolen’ to discover that Sami was incredibly overdramatic when he was sick.

Sami turned over, now lying face down on the couch, burrowed under a pile of blankets. His voice was muffled by the pillow and the quilt he’d pulled over his head, “Olen! Minä kuolen ja et välitä.”

“I couldn’t hear that. But whatever it was, you’re _fine_.” He called from the kitchen. When he got no reply, he poked his head into the living room. “Sami?”

A groan sounded from within the pile of blankets on the couch. Appeased that he was still breathing, Ben went back to the stove. The liquid in the pan didn’t seem to be boiling, but then he was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to. The steam indicated that at least it was hot enough to be called ‘hot’, so he attempted to pour it into the mug without spilling too much. It was not a success and he hoped it wouldn’t stain the counter red. After checking the directions on his phone again, he squeezed the honey on to the spoon and let it sink into the mug.

“Sit up,” Ben ordered as he carefully carried the mug into the living room. When the pile of blankets didn’t move, he set the mug on the table and started to peel back layers until he found the human underneath, “Come on, sit up.”

Slowly, Sami picked himself up, flopping against the back of the couch. He didn’t bother to move his hair from his face, whining like a toddler. He peered up at Ben through slits of eyes, “Miksi?”

“Because this won’t stay hot long.” He picked the mug up and wrapped Sami’s hands around it.

Sami moved the mug closer to him, inhaling the steam. At the smell, he opened his eyes, “You found it?” He was so surprised that he forgot he was boycotting English.

Ben sat on the couch beside him, reaching over to brush his hair out of his face, “Did you know that most people don’t even know you _can_ make juice from blackcurrants? I went to _four_ grocery stores, in this weather, and none of them had it. Someone said Ikea might carry it—” He held his hand up at Sami’s look, “ _But_ I _didn’t_ go there. I finally found it at this international food store that I didn’t even know existed.”

Sami ducked his head down a little with a shy smile. Ben caught the look in his eye and was surprised at just how much it made his stomach flutter. Sami’s smile was usually on the smirky side, but the one was genuine and grateful and made Ben's breath catch in his throat. It might have been the best thing he had ever seen.

“Thank you.” His voice was a whisper, but purposefully English, even if Ben knew that word in Finnish. He brought the mug to his lips to sip on it. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes. “ _Perfect_.” He took another sip, “Kuten äitini valmistettu.”

Ben rested his arm on the back of the couch, running his fingers lightly through Sami’s hair, “What was that?”

He smiled into the mug, “I said it is like the way my mother did it.”

Ben felt a surge of pride at that, and grinned. “Yeah? Do you think it’ll keep you from dying?”

Sami grinned back at him, “I think I will make it now. I would kiss you, but I don’t want you to get my flu.”

“You really think the flu knows to stay just on your side of the couch?” Ben asked with a laugh.

Sami frowned at that, “Okay, but… I don’t feel good enough to kiss.”

Ben wrapped his arm around him, “Drink your juice, you can kiss me later.”

“Remind me later, I owe you a _really_ good kiss.” Sami leaned his head against Ben’s, closing his eyes, breathing in the steam from the mug, nearly hugging it to himself.

Placing a gentle kiss on his temple, Ben smiled, “I’ll remind you. Rest now.”


	9. Winnipeg Jets Ensemble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This is set towards the end of the 2017-18 season._

“What about locking them in a closet?”

Blake shook his head, “That’s considered hazing, we’re not supposed to do that. It’s illegal.”

“There’s a _lot_ of shit that we’re not supposed to do, that we still do. Y’know, like… each other in all the management’s offices?” Paul grinned at the smattering of laughs and snorts from around the table.

“That was classy.” Blake rolled his eyes.

Paul grinned even more, looking like a devious second-grader with his missing teeth, “That’s why you guys got me, to class the place up.”

Mark spoke up before anyone could engage Paul further, “How about a suggestion that’s _not_ against the law?”

“Where’s the fun in _that_?” Patrik complained.

As Nikolaj laughed, Mark shot Blake a ‘ _really?_ ’ look. He did that a lot around Patrik, they’d all gotten used to it. If there was something else in there besides annoyance, none of them were touching that with a ten-foot pole. Besides, they had an issue at hand that they _could_ deal with without stepping on anyone’s toes. Or at least toes that _needed_ to be stepped on. Toes belonging to someone who didn’t actually have the power to convene a practice _just_ to watch them skate laps.

“Alright, listen. We’ve all noticed the pining looks across the room, from _both_ sides. And we all agree that all they need to do is _talk_ to sort everything out. _However_ , we can’t do anything that, if accidently revealed to the press, makes us look like assholes.” Blake reminded them.

“I have an idea,” Ben raised a finger.

"Oh yeah, you're  _great_  at things that don't make us look like assholes to the press," Bryan's tone was more amused than insulting.

Ben rolled his eyes, "Don't make me punch you."

Blake shook his head, "No punching. What's your idea?"

“How about locking them in a _bathroom_?" Ben suggested, "That seems… less hazing’ish than a closet. There’s light… water… a shower?”

Paul snickered at that, “And they say _I’m_ classless? You want them to shower together.”

“Showers are perfectly classy,” Ben pointed at Paul, “Not the way _you_ shower, but _normal_ people’s showers are classy.”

Paul scoffed, “You’re bitter ‘cause you can’t have me.”

Ben rolled his eyes, counting on his fingers, “ _One_ , not bitter, just honest. _Two_ , don’t want you. _Three_ , you shower weird.”

“ _Children_ ,” Blake spoke louder than Paul’s possible retort, “Can we keep focus on the matter at hand here? And for the record, you _do_ shower weird.”

“No one had a complaint in St Louis,” Paul muttered under his breath.

Ben’s tone was dry, “Wonder _why_.”

Blake pointed at each of them in turn, “If you don’t shut up, I’m calling _both_ of you in early to skate tomorrow.”

Ben held his hands up and leaned back a little from the table. Paul rolled his eyes, pressing his lips together hard enough to turn them white. But neither of them said a word.

“I want that power,” Bryan muttered.

Blake grinned, “ _That’s_ why you don’t have it.”

“Thanks, Yoda.”

“Shouldn’t we focus on the matter at hand?” Patrik flashed a cheeky grin. Judging by the look Blake shot him, he was going to pay for that later. But judging by how much his grin grew, he wasn’t going to mind paying.

“Okay, locking them in a bathroom isn’t a bad idea. How are we going to get them _both_ in the bathroom?” Blake asked. There was complete silence for one full second, and then everyone around the table burst out laughing. “Right, right. So, I nominate Paul to keep an eye on when they…. _scamper off_ and let us know. And we’ll lock the door.”

“Why me?!” Paul whined.

“Because you’re not _doing_ anything—”

“He means _anyone._ ” Nikolaj faux whispered to Patrik loud enough for the whole table to hear.

Blake shot him a glare and kept speaking, “…in the locker room other than getting dressed, which you can do without looking.”

Paul shrugged, nodding, “You’ve got a point there. Okay, I can handle the mission, Cap.” He threw Blake a lazy salute.

“Anyone else can help, if you spot something. But be careful not to tip them off. Let’s just get this _solved_.” Mark added.

There was a scattered murmur of agreement from around the table, so Blake stood and opened the door, “Good meeting, guys.” He grinned, ushering them out of the conference room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who are they talking about? You tell me.


	10. Ben Chiarot and Sami Niku, Winnipeg Jets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On March 30, 2019, Ben Chiarot blocked a Shea Weber slapshot with his leg. And survived._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katie suggested the image of Ben braiding Sami's hair and this is where my mind went with it.

Sami _purrs_.

This wasn’t something Ben was honestly expecting. He had never met someone that could unironically, involuntarily make that sound. And if you had asked him last year, if he would have liked to have been the cause of that sound, he would have scoffed. But nevertheless, he found himself on his couch, with his hand sliding through Sami’s hair just to hear that sound against his shoulder, to watch Sami struggle to fight off the sleep that always comes next. And he found himself thinking things he never thought he’d think and practicing words in his head that he’d never thought he needed to know, because of that sound.

Ben wouldn’t have considered himself vain (though the word had been thrown in his face a few times), there was nothing wrong with actually spending a little time getting ready before going out of the house. They had fallen into a routine since Sami had been spending the night. While Ben was getting ready (which is the only way he’d describe the fact that he stood in front of a mirror doing his hair the entire time), Sami would sit cross-legged on the closed toilet and they’d go over the roster of the team they’d be facing. Sami ran a brush through his hair as they talked, but no more.

It was one particular off-day that the routine was disrupted. Sami had already declared his intention to attend the optional practice that day and had dressed for it. Ben was still nursing a nasty bruise on his leg from a blocked shot and decided that practice was the last place he wanted to be. He had tried to convince Sami to stay in bed with him, but he had lost, so he figured he’d get some errands done while he was at practice. Even though standing wasn't the best idea, staying in bed alone was no fun. Which was how they found themselves in their typical routine in the bathroom. But as Sami reached for his brush, Ben grabbed it first. Sami gave him a confused look, but Ben only grinned.

“Turn around.” He directed.

He got another quizzical look, but Sami turned his back to him. Gently, Ben began to drag the brush through his hair. Sami’s shoulders dropped and judging by the sounds that escaped, his eyes were closed too. When the brush proved too unwieldy, he put it aside to detangle with his fingers, which lead to him gently massaging his scalp with his fingertips. Which lead to Sami’s complete undoing.

“Lisää…” His voice was a whisper.

Ben chuckled, “That’s not usually where I hear _that_ word…” He leaned in, his fingers still tangled in Sami’s hair, his voice teasingly soft, “Is that what you want, _kulta_? More?”

When the only sound that came from him was a low purr, Ben had his answer. He let his fingers slowly slide from Sami’s hair, only to gather the stray front pieces into the back, weaving them into a braid. Sami always looked better, he thought, with his hair pulled back away from his face. Every time he got close to the end of the braid, he’d let it go and rake his fingers through his hair to untangle it, only to start all over again. He wanted to know just how much of that Sami could take. The purrs began to fade into soft whimpers and words murmured too quietly for him to hear, though he understood them perfectly. That Sami was still seated was a testament to his stubbornness.

Once he could hear that Sami was at the point where he couldn’t take another second, Ben slid his hands free and let the braid fall out. He leaned against him, whispering beside his ear, “Time to go to practice.”

For the rest of his life, Ben will never forget the murderous look Sami gave him in that moment.


	11. Brandon Tanev and Adam Lowry, Winnipeg Jets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On April 2, 2019, Brandon Tanev was slashed in the hand by Eric Staal, in the first period, and did not return. The Jets lost the game 1-5._

“I’m _fine_.” Brandon stated firmly.

Adam had been fluttering around him since they got home, practically changing his clothes for him, making sure he had a comfortable spot in their bed where he could rest his hand that was now completely obscured by a bag of ice and copious amounts of white tape. Brandon had tried to get him to settle down in the first few minutes but had given up trying and may have even secretly enjoyed it. At least that’s what Adam told himself when Brandon’s protests had faded away.  

He gestured to Brandon’s hand, “ _That_ is _not_ fine.”

“Well, maybe not. But _I’m_ fine.”

“If you mean fine like _fine,_ I’m going to punch you right in the face.” Adam balled up a fist to prove his point, despite the fact that there was absolutely nothing on heaven or earth that would actually make him lay an angry hand on him.

Brandon flashed a slightly dopey grin, “Well…”

Adam rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Brandon hadn’t been in the meeting at the end of the game, he was going through round two with the trainers at that point, but Adam had to suffer through every word of it. Though as he was sitting there, being told that it seemed clear none of them actually _cared_ about the game, all he could think was that he was glad Brandon didn’t have to listen to it. Adam could let these kinds of things roll off his back, but Brandon took them to heart. Nothing that had been said in that room needed to be taken to heart, it was all just vented steam.

Nevertheless, they had all walked out of that game in a terrible, snappy, sulky mood, and because of that had been spared the press for fear of what might actually come out of their mouths. (Blake wasn’t spared, of course, but that comes with the shiny letter.) Brandon, on the other hand, had been given ice and some sort of painkilling medication, and had slept through half the second period and all of the third. Adam had only woken him up when it was time to leave, not a minute before, and had refused to tell him what had been said in the meeting.

“You are so lucky I love you.” Adam growled.

Brandon’s smile softened, “Yeah, I did know that.”

Adam sighed, his shoulders and hackles dropping, “Do you need anything?”

Brandon’s eyelids were already at half-mast, “Yeah, I need my boyfriend to come to bed.”

Adam tried to suppress another growl at the idea. He had too much energy to just _lay_ in bed. After a normal game as bad as that one, he would have long since already pounced on Brandon and used up every ounce of his energy on his body. But he couldn’t do that today. Adam didn’t have the kind of restraint that was needed to both have Brandon and be careful of his hand. So instead, he had taken to pacing around their bedroom like a caged tiger.

Brandon, having read him perfectly, offered, “You could come over here and blow me.”

Adam shook his head, “You’ll be asleep before I’m done.”

“Yeah, but… you still _could,_ ” he offered, with a sleepy grin.

Adam laughed, “I’ll blow you awake in the morning.”

Brandon gave him a hazy moan, “That sounds _good_. I’m just gonna close my eyes for a few minutes, okay?”

“Yeah, baby, just a few minutes.” He sat on the edge of the bed beside him, running a hand through his hair, “You just rest.”

The moment Brandon’s eyes closed all the way, he was asleep. Adam checked his watch. Ten more minutes. The trainer had told him to make sure Brandon only iced his hand twenty minutes at a time, no more. Adam didn’t know if he had given Brandon the same instructions, but the fact that he had called him into the room to give them to him was a source of pride. They knew, they _all_ knew that _Adam_ was the one that took care of him. And maybe the Wild had made damn sure to never let Staal on the ice at the same time as him for the rest of the game, but he could still do _something_ to help his boyfriend.

And that was enough.


	12. Shea Weber and Roman Josi, Montreal Canadiens and Nashville Predators

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometime in 2017, Pekka did [this](http://thosedaysthatwill.tumblr.com/post/183931363126/pkariya-juuse-saros-and-heroroommate-pekka). Sometime in 2019, Pekka did [this](http://thosedaysthatwill.tumblr.com/post/183715619741/davidpastrnut-excuse-me-32519).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just popped into my head and I couldn't help but write it down.

“Did you know?”

“Hello, Roman. I’m doing well. And you?”

“Come on!”

Shea snickered, “Did I know _what_?”

“Don’t even pretend! I mean you’re…”

“I’m _what_?”

Roman blushed right down to his voice, “You’re… into…”

It was getting harder and harder for Shea to contain his laughter, “I’m… into… what?”

“ _Oh Gott!_ ”

“English, Roman, you _know_ how bad my German is.”

Roman took in a slow deep breath and let it out, “Just tell me if you knew.”

“I know a lot of things. What are you talking about?”

“About _Pekka!_ You saw it. I _know_ you saw it. Someone showed it to you.”

“Mmhmm.” Shea bit hard on his lip, “I never played with his… what is he calling him?”

“Shea! You played with Pekka for _years_. Did you know?!”

“Why would I?”

If they had been speaking in person, there would have been nothing that could stopped Roman from taking a swing at him, but lucky for both of them, they played in two different countries. It was better for Shea that Roman couldn’t see the amused expression on his face, because it would have sent Roman over the edge. As it was, Shea’s tone of voice was ramping his agitation up quickly.

 “You’re… You know what you do!”

“Alright, I have to get to practice soon, so I’m going to put you out of your misery. You’re assuming that because _I’m_ into a certain kind of _relationship_ , that I know _everyone_ in the league that’s also into that?”

Roman made a frustrated sound, “Not the whole league, but the Preds, yes!”

“Well, maybe. But Pekka and I wouldn’t have had much to talk about with _that_ … different roles, you know? Maybe he talked to Ryan, you could always go ask _him_.”

“Couldn’t you just have said ‘no’? Wouldn’t that have been easier and then I wouldn’t have the image of… _oh Gott_.”

Shea finally burst out laughing, “Enjoy practice, Roman. Always nice talking to you.”

Roman hit the call end button without another word.


	13. Ben Chiarot and Sami Niku, Winnipeg Jets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On April 6, 2019, the Winnipeg Jets defeated the Arizona Coyotes, to secure home ice advantage in the playoffs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This started out as one thing, and ended up something else. But, uh... here.

“What is your best playoff advice?”

Ben couldn’t help but laugh. He had almost fallen asleep, despite the level of noise from around them and the close confines of the plane. Sami always wanted the window seat and since he couldn’t care less about that, Ben let him have it. Usually he was just in the seat beside him, but he was extra exhausted tonight and had camped out horizontally across not only his seat, but Sami’s seat and into the aisle. Games were always tiring, but this one had the added bonus of nearly a full period of making sure that (he wasn’t saying babysitting, not him) his partner didn’t murder anyone from the opposing team. It was touch and go.

Sami had his hands in Ben’s hair, for a change, and the gentle massage was so relaxing that Ben had nearly drifted off when he spoke. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, turning to look up at Sami, “My _best_ playoff advice doesn’t apply to you.” At Sami’s quizzical look, Ben laughed again. He was about to speak when a voice jumped in over him.

“What you don’t understand, Sami, is that you _only_ ask our friend here for a _certain_ kind of advice, and that’s _not_ about what you do _on_ the ice.” Jacob leaned over the seat in front of them, grinning. “He’s _great_ at a certain kind of advice. I happen to _know_ his best playoff advice. And he's right.”

Without glancing over to him, Ben’s tone was even, “I will murder you if you don’t stop talking.”

Jacob giggled, “No you won’t. You proved you’re the biggest pacifist on the team. _We_ all wanted Buff to kill the guy.”

Ben rolled his eyes, “Scraping his intestines off the ice would have delayed the game too long. I wanted to go home.”

“Uh huh.” He switched his attention to Sami, “You see… your boyfriend there was—”

“Jake, I’m warning you. I know where you keep your shampoo.”

Jacob paused, seeming to weight the potential prank-related consequences against the amusement of gossiping.

“I want to hear what he was going to say.” Sami was smiling too much to not already have a good idea of what was coming. Either that, or the fact that no one had used the term ‘boyfriend’ before, including themselves.

Ben looked up a Sami for a moment, “I doubt you really do.”

Sami laughed a little, “Maybe I have already talked to people about you.”

Ben scoffed, but he had wondered about that, “Yeah? And?”

“Yes, and… don’t you think it was a good thing at least _one_ of us knew what he was doing?” Sami was blushing but he didn’t take his eyes off Ben’s.

Ben look softened, “You got a point there.” Out of all his possible reactions, that was about the best one he could have heard. He reached up to pull Sami down into a kiss, “You’ve figured things out pretty well since then, kulta.”

Sami grinned, “I don’t mind still learning.”

“That is some of the sappiest shit I’ve _ever_ seen on this plane.” Jacob announced loudly.

From across the plane, Andrew called back, “Whoever you’re being an ass to, Troubs, be nicer to them.”

Ben exchanged a look with Sami and they both looked up at Jacob. Of course, everyone had been talking about them behind their backs, they’d been doing that for _years_. And Ben was pretty sure that at one point that Mark or Blake had sat down with them individually, but it didn’t help. It was to the point now that they used hockey nicknames in daily conversation, which stood out to everyone that used those names to draw a line between home and work. At what point did you stop feeling bad for someone that allowed this to be done to themselves, Ben wondered.

He asked, “When are you going to figure _your_ shit out, Jakey?”

Jacob rolled his eyes, “Just because _you_ settled down, that means _everyone_ should?”

“If you had to guess between the two of us who would first?” Ben gave a slight shrug, “If he finds someone else, it’s your own fault.”

Jacob rolled his eyes, “First of all, mind your own fuckin’ business. And second, he’s _not_ going to find someone else.”

The tone had changed, from playful banter, to something a little more serious. Ben sat up, “We’re trying to find him someone, and he’s not objecting. Someone that’ll treat him better than you do. Maybe we’ll find him a nice _Blue_. I’m willing to break my rules if it’ll make him happy.”

The only thing that stopped Jacob from throwing a punch was the angle over the back of the seat. Had they been closer, it would have been a brawl. As it was, he sent Ben a sharp, angry glare, before Jacob turned in his seat and sat all the way down, without a word. Ben knew he had gone too far (he had a way of doing that), but there wasn’t any taking it back now.

Sami’s voice was low, “Are you really?”

“Well, I am _now_.”


	14. Brandon Tanev and Adam Lowry, Winnipeg Jets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt and pairing came from a lovely anon. The prompt was the first sentence.

“Lie to me if you have to.”

Brandon sighed. They had been through so much already. The season had started out as the past two seasons had, with them looking across the locker room at each other, flirting when they passed in the halls, and occasionally sneaking off from the bar the team had chosen to fuck like rabbits at one of their apartments. Brandon honestly wasn’t looking forward to another whole season of that, the last one had driven him nearly insane. So, he wasn’t sure if it was him, or if it was Adam that started to change things. (He would find out later that last season drove Adam _just_ as crazy, but he didn’t know it at the time.)

Soon, it wasn’t just nights they’d spend together, it was afternoons, too. And whole days. It was brunch (is that something a hockey player should say? Oh well, it _was_ brunch) on the patio. It was making dinner together and then relaxing on the couch to watch something stupid on TV. Good honest snuggling and Netflix and fresh baked desserts. Brandon might have said he was in love last season, but it was during one of those ‘dates’, those nights, that he looked up at Adam and just _knew_ that he was it. It took a little while before he actually _told_ him though.

And then there was that silly promo. Of all the things to permanently alter his whole life, it was a short ad for a company that neither of them cared about or even really knew. And the whole thing was Adam’s fault. Brandon had originally turned it down, not because he didn’t want to do it, but because he knew it would be difficult for Adam. And Adam turns around and practically _begs_ him to do it with him. Adam, who can’t even put syrup on his pancakes, wanted to do a food guessing show. Brandon had a long history of not being able to say no to him, so of course, he agreed.

And every second of that thing drove him insane. From Adam crouching so he could put the blindfold on, to ‘make me’, to knowing everything about what the other liked, to… of course, the kiss. He’d read something that said it was staged, or that it wasn’t a real kiss. He never spoke about it, but he was tempted. It _was_ a real kiss and Adam shocked the hell out of him with it. But out of everything everyone said, no one said it looked like the first time they’d done that. There was a hint in a couple of the write-ups that Brandon looked very comfortable being kissed like that, and of course he _was_.

Brandon wasn’t sure at what point it went from ‘let’s stay at your place, you have a better kitchen’ to ‘I live here too’. There wasn’t any formal agreement of it, it just happened. Adam had given him a key ‘for whatever reason’ long before. And Brandon stopped taking his things with him when he left. And then came ‘boyfriend’ and ‘I love you’ and everything just looked different from that moment on. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but it was _different_ somehow. It meant something else, something he couldn’t put into words.

He’d taken care of Adam through a few injuries (and one dumbass suspension) throughout the season, but when it came time for Adam to take care of him, he tried to shrug him off. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work, and he had to admit he took a small amount of pleasure at watching the pride on Adam’s face when Brandon did as he said regarding ice and meds. He may have come back a little too early, but it was the playoffs, and he regretted nothing.

It was all over too soon and that’s when he found himself standing in their bedroom, looking at the man he had recently figured out he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. There were still a few unanswered questions hanging in the air, some major, some minor, but the most pressing of those was the one that Adam had just asked.

Brandon smiled, “Yeah, babe, the mustache looks _great_.”


	15. Ben Chiarot and Sami Niku, Winnipeg Jets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On May 25, 2019, Finland beat Russia to advance to the Gold Medal round, which would be held the next day._

“I’m not saying they’re not good. They beat Russia, obviously they’re good. I’m just saying they’re not good _enough_ to beat Canada.” Ben’s tone was calm, but very matter-of-fact.

Sami opened his eyes. He had his head in Ben’s lap and after the game had ended, he’d thought seriously about taking a nap. Of course, any time Ben’s hands were in his hair, he thought seriously about taking a nap. Or rather, didn’t think at all. “They are good enough!”

“I’m not insulting your friends, I’m just telling the truth.” Ben shrugged.

Sami sat up, abruptly, “You _are_ insulting my friends. But that is fine, we know better. Canada is going to get silver. If we are lucky, Russia will get _nothing_.”

Ben just looked at him, “You want to make a bet?”

Sami grinned, “Yes! What do you want?”

Ben thought for a moment, “Okay, I’ve got this. If I win… no cellphone. No texts, no buddies calling that have no idea how time zones work. None of that. For a whole week.”

“If I win…” Sami’s eyes were sparkling, “I want to invite the guys _here_. For a few days. You can meet them all in person.”

“How many are there?” Ben asked, cautiously.

Sami shrugged, “Well, they wouldn’t _all_ come. But maybe… ten or twelve?”

Ben blinked a few times, processing the possibility of that. Finally, he nodded, “Canada better not let me down.”

Of course, Canada let him down.

When Canada scored first, Sami moved to ‘his’ side of the couch and refused to cross the line he’d drawn in the pile of the cushion. Ben did his best not to laugh but failed for the most part. At one point, Sami threatened to hit him with a pillow and at another point, actually did hit him. The first period went to the Canadians, but Sami said he wasn’t worried.

The second period was tilted much more in Finland’s favor. Once the score was tied, Sami allowed Ben on his side of the couch again. He stretched out across the couch and rested his head on Sami’s thigh. This proved to be a mistake when the second goal was scored, in the third period, and Sami leapt to his feet, knocking Ben clean off the couch. After he stopped laughing, Sami helped him back up, but Ben decided he’d keep to his own half.

As the third period wore on, and the third goal was scored, Ben started to get worried. Sami was still wrapped around the pillow he’d claimed in the second, but he was smiling. Ben, on the other hand, had taken to pacing behind the couch, which only confused the dogs as he was moving but ignoring them. In the last minute, he had an iron grip on the back of the couch, but at that point he knew it was all but over.

After the final buzzer, Sami looked up at him, “I think next week is a good time.”

Ben just groaned.  


	16. Connor McDavid and Leon Draisaitl, Edmonton Oilers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The NHL Awards were held in Las Vegas, NV, on June 19, 2019._
> 
> [The belt is real.](https://thosedaysthatwill.tumblr.com/post/185713750186/i-have-a-whole-headcanon-on-that-belt-now)

“I don’t want to go.” Connor sighed for what seemed like—and might have actually been—the thousandth time.

Leon shook his head, “I know. You _never_ want to go.”

“You should be there with me.” His tone wasn’t quite a whine, but it was close.

“I _tried_.” He pointed out. He meant it teasingly, but there was the slight edge of frustration all the same.

Connor’s shoulders dropped, “I know. I didn’t mean _that_. You deserved to win it. I’m sorry we couldn’t do it for you.”

Leon groaned, pulling Connor close to him. His voice dropped, “Stop apologizing, Liebling, it’s over. We did everything we could. There was _nothing_  more we could do about how it ended.”

With yet another sigh, he laid out on the couch, curling his legs up and pressing his face into Leon’s thigh, “I just…”

“I know. But the season is over.” He ran one hand over his hair, the other resting on his back, “A couple hours of that awards show, and then a long vacation.”

Connor’s voice was muffled, “Where?”

Leon continued to pet his hair, “Somewhere that no one knows of hockey. Maybe an island. Or a mountain. Out of Canada. Somewhere that is just you and me, and nothing else.”

This time, Connor’s sigh was a good one, “That sounds perfect.” He shifted a little, so he could look up at Leon, “Will you plan it? While I’m in Vegas? Just pick _anywhere_ , and I’ll go with you. I don’t even care where it is, I just want to go.”

He smiled, “I can do that. Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you to Vegas?”

Connor shook his head, “I don’t want to _‘do’_ Vegas. I just want to survive the awards and leave. I’ve never liked it there, but I like it even _less_ now that they have a team.”

“Mmhmm, I know.” He brushed Connor’s hair back from his forehead, “I think maybe not a beach. You burn too fast.”

Connor scoffed, “I do _not_.”

Leon gave him a skeptical look, “Last summer?”

He frowned, “That was just a _little_ burn.”

“Any burn is a burn. I am thinking… a cabin, in the middle of nowhere. Maybe the Alps.” His hand brushed Connor’s cheek, “I can make love to you all day. And we’ll never leave the bed.”

Connor groaned, “Oh God, _perfect_.”

Leon grinned, “Okay, I will plan all of it. We will leave when you get back. Are you all packed?”

He nodded, “Mmhmm, my suit and everything else.”

“Did you pack a _belt_ this time?” Leon asked.

Connor shook his head, “No. But _this_ year, I didn’t have a milestone. So, I didn’t have any good laces to use.” He grinned up at him, “ _You_ did, though.”

“You had your hundredth.” Leon blinked a few times, “Wait, you stole my skate laces?”

“Well…” Connor smiled, “ _You_ took them out. I just _borrowed_ them.”

“The ones when we scored 50, right?” Leon was still blinking at him. Connor noticed the ‘we’, he always did, but he didn’t say anything.

“Mmhmm. I was going to take them that night, but then we didn’t know if you would… well, you know, so I left them. But you took them out, so I _borrowed_ them.” He bit his lip against the widening grin.

“And you’re going to wear them… as your belt.” Leon shook his head.

“Mmhmm. It was our _big_ milestone this year. Besides, I want you there _at the show_ with me. This is how I’m going to do it.” Connor’s cheeks were pink, but he ignored it. He had come to terms with the fact that he was dopier than his boyfriend. He’d also come to realize that Leon _liked_ it, even if he didn’t always admit it.

Leon sighed, “Ich liebe dich.”

Connor grinned at him, “I love you, too.”


	17. Blake Wheeler and David Krejčí, Winnipeg Jets and Boston Bruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This is set during the summer of 2019._
> 
> [The TSN post is real.](https://i.ibb.co/fvDt9JN/IMG-1533.png) This was my first reaction to seeing it.

“Your boy's not one for subtle, huh?” Blake glanced up from his phone. He was stretched out on the couch, his feet tucked under David's leg and their new baby son asleep on his chest. Blake had barely put him down since he arrived. The baby had been born in Boston during the season and, to Blake, he had already missed more than he wanted to.

David shrugged, his attention not leaving their daughters playing toddler soccer on the rug in front of them. “He’s not my problem during the summer. What did he do?”

“It’s not what he did, it’s what _his_ boy did.” Blake turned the phone towards him, TSN’s Instagram post up. The jersey number 88 filled the screen, but the blue around it was an unmistakably Leafy, as was the name bar across the top.

David glanced over and laughed, “Well, that’s one way to do it.”

Blake raised an eyebrow, “Do what?”

“They got married this summer. Davidek said he was going to get him to take his name, so I guess that's how he did it. You have to give them points for style. You don't usually see people doing that unless they change teams." He toed the plush soccer ball back into the area between their girls. "And sometimes not even _then_." He raised an eyebrow at Blake.

He pointedly ignored the comment. "Your boytoy got married and didn't even invite you? That's cold."

David rolled his eyes, "He _did_ invite me, but I told him that  _we_ couldn't make it." 

"He didn't invite _me_." Blake pointed out. 

"Actually, he did. He said if I wanted to bring a guest, I could. He meant you." He leaned back against the couch, but turned his smirk on Blake, "Would you have wanted to go?"

Blake scoffed, "Only if you were going to stand up in the middle of it and object during the 'forever hold your peace' part. Because that would be funny. I've always wanted to see someone do that." 

David laughed, "Why would I object? Marriage didn't stop _me_ from sleeping with _him_ , I don't expect he's going to stop _him_ from sleeping with _me_ either." 

"That's because you, my love, are a wanton slut for any Czech in a Bruins jersey. Lest we forget what happened when _Daddy_ came to town. But not everyone feels that way." Blake flashed a grin as he sat up, careful not to wake the baby as he moved him to rest in his arms, "Some people, when they get married-- and hold on, this is a crazy concept-- only sleep with their _husband_." 

David waved that off, "I'm not worried." 

Blake looked at him critically, "The Swede has a team boy, doesn't he?" 

It was David's turn to smirk, "Of course he does. That's all the rage, you know. One guy for home and kids, and if he's on a different team, you have another one for fucking on road games. We were just ahead of the trend. Your problem is that you keep picking guys that dump you for someone else. And _marry_ them."

" _Rookies_. But you have to admit, that was a nice wedding, though." Blake pointed out. 

David rolled his eyes, "It was _much_. They're _much._ "

Blake laughed, "You don't even know the _half_ of it. They're twice as _much_ as that ceremony was." 

"What you ever saw in him...." David shook his head. "You had better taste with the other one. Too bad he dumped you, too. Because of me."

"Don't look so smug. He called me. He _misses_ me." Blake grinned at him, "You wouldn't know what that's like, you've _never_ missed me."

David rolled his eyes, "Yeah, never once. What's there to miss?" 

Blake shifted his gaze to the baby in his arms, "Too much." 

David sighed, losing his smile, "We'll make that work. We always have." 

"I know." He leaned over, and kissed David softly, "It's all worth it. It always has been." 


	18. Nolan Patrick and Travis Konecny, Philadelphia Flyers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This is set in September 2019, a phone call..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just sprung, fully-formed, from my brain. I am not responsible whatsoever.

 "You have until Monday to sign." Nolan's tone was very firm, very matter of fact. That was how he'd answered the phone, no hello, just that. 

Travis didn't reply for a long moment. He'd been demanding he sign since July, but he'd never given him a deadline before. "Or...?" He knew there was something that was going to follow that, some ultimatum. His brother'd told him that would happen sooner or later, and he hated that he was right. 

Nolan hummed softly and dropped his voice to nearly a whisper, "Should I tell you?" 

Travis' sigh was sharp, but he knew that tone of voice. If he gave in when he was using that voice, Nolan would run with it and he was a gonner. Any hope he had of holding control-- _any_ control whatsoever-- of the situation lay in not feeding into that tone, "You're doing the minx thing again." He pointed out, as if it wasn't the least bit effective. The shifting in his seat wasn't visible across the miles so the lie could hold for a little while. 

Nolan murmured, and he could hear the rustle of fabric in the background. "Mmhmm. And?" 

Travis could hear that he was stretching out, probably in their bed. That's where he'd been calling him from since he got back to Philly. He'd even sent a few pictures, which Travis absolutely did not use to help him sleep at night. "These things take time. You know that." He could hear that his own tone of voice was heading into 'pleading' territory, but there wasn't much he could do to stop that. The mental images were already too strong, and it wasn't as if Nolan didn't know exactly how to get to him every time. 

"You keep saying that." Nolan's breath was getting a little heavy, his voice softer. "But you have until Monday." 

Travis sighed, " _Baby_..." 

"You know..." He could hear the little hitch in Nolan's voice, he knew exactly what he was doing, "Nico always liked my hair shorter. He said it made it feel softer, kept it out of my face. Said it made me look--" 

Travis cut him off, "Who gives a fuck what _Nico_ thinks?" His voice was nearly a growl. 

For a moment all he could hear were Nolan's slow breaths. They weren't moans, not yet anyway, but they were close. And they were evil. "Mmm, I guess we don't. It was always in German anyway. Maybe that kind of thing doesn't translate. Hmm... I think I saw on Instagram that he was back in Jersey."

"Well, fuck him. And Jersey." Travis' grip on his phone threatened to crack the screen. He hated that Nolan _had_ an ex-boyfriend that he was still friends with (and they disagreed on how much said ex wanted him back), but the fact that he was on a team that was so damn close to them was such a cruel joke that fate had played on him. 

"Hmm..." Nolan's breath was getting faster, "I'd rather have _you_... your hands in my hair like they were this summer, mmm holding on tight while you--" He cut himself off with a soft moan, "This would be so much better if you were here." 

Travis didn't open his mouth, because he knew damn well what sound would come out if he did. He was grinding his teeth and absolutely refusing to close his eyes. He knew if he wanted to, he could picture _exactly_ how Nolan looked in that moment, splayed out on their bed, pajama pants bunched around his thighs, the flush of his cheeks and his chest, the way his head was tipped back, and how he bit his lip because he never wanted to be _too_ loud. Hell, he didn't _have_ to close his eyes, damn him. Through gritted teeth, he managed, " _Baby...._ " 

"Mmm... it's been too long..." Nolan sighed, "And I'm so _tired_ of waiting...." 

" _Soon,_ I promise." He'd been saying that since July, and he knew it was worn pretty thin. 

Nolan took in a deep, though shaky, breath, "Sign by Monday... or I'm getting a haircut." His moans picked up and then abruptly cut off. 

Travis pulled the phone away from his ear to see that he'd been hung up on. With a far too loud and extremely frustrated growl he sent the phone careening into the wall, screen shattering on impact. " _Fuck!"_  


	19. Dougie Hamilton and Andrei Svechnikov, Carolina Hurricanes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set on or around October 18, 2019. 
> 
> This appeared, fully formed, in my head and I just wrote it down. I don't know why or how, it just happened.

On the plane, Dougie sat with his back to the window, headphones in place, looking intently at his phone. Sometimes he could be convince to engage with others, but most of the time, he was focused on his phone. When he was asked what he was doing, he told someone he was watching something (they all knew that was a lie, his phone was in portrait) and someone else that he was playing something (unlikely, he didn't tap the screen enough) and a third teammate that he was reading something (which was the most likely of the three). Occasionally, he'd talk to himself, but always silently and it wasn't in anger, it was slow and almost questioning. Every time someone would try to look at his screen, he'd hide it against his chest. 

During flights _to_ cities, Andrei liked to listen to people. He didn't do a lot of the talking (or any of the talking if he could help it), but he liked to be a part of the conversation. He liked to hear as much casual English as he could, he said it helped him understand the way the language worked. When he was around, the Finns tried not to speak too much Finnish, because they all remembered the learning curve of their first few years in the league. Though hearing accented English with an accent that wasn't his own didn't do _a lot_ for him, he appreciated the effort. But on the flight back _home_ , Andrei always slept. 

On this particular flight, after a hard fought (and _lost_ ) game in Anaheim and miserable west coast series, he was exhausted. He'd moved the armrest and convinced Dougie to sit with his back to the seat instead of the wall, so he could use his thigh and his hoodie as a pillow. He'd scrunched up to fit across the two seats (and the aisle) and it wasn't ideal but he fell asleep anyway. (Dougie had tried to point out that the seats tipped back and made a much better bed, but Andrei gave him a _look_ and he didn't mention it again. Besides, he knew Andrei could fall asleep _anywhere_.) 

Dougie had draped one arm around him, and (quite possibly in his sleep) Andrei had grabbed his hand and anchored it there. So he was left with one hand to continue with whatever it was he was doing on his phone. It wasn't too bad, and he relaxed back in the seat, stretching his legs out. The noise cancelling headphone and the calm of the situation and the exhaustion from the game combined to make him completely miss the hand that reached over the back of the seat from behind him until it was much too late. His phone was snatched right out of his hand and quickly disappeared behind him. "The fuck?!" He tried to sit up but Andrei was pinning his leg down and he didn't want to wake him up by dumping him onto the floor. 

A burst of what he could reasonably assume was Finnish from behind him gave him a pretty good idea who the culprit was. He slowly shifted until he could slide out from under Andrei's head enough to stand up and lean over the seat, "Give me my phone!" He demanded in what was supposed to be an angry voice, but came out a little whinier than he expected. He blamed it on the exhaustion. "What did you do that for?"

Sebastian held the phone in both hands, and he was surrounded by a small gang of teammates, all of them trying to see what was on the screen. "You made it a mystery." He pointed out, as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation for stealing his phone. Which among their crowd, it really was. They didn't have a whole lot of secrets from each other and those that did weren't allowed to keep them very long. Even the new guys were starting to open up more and more, and it was only October. 

Dougie sighed and he was positive he was blushing. A grown man should not blush, but he usually could blame it on fair skin and Irish heritage. This time, though, there was no blaming it on anything but embarrassment. One by one, the teammate gathered looked at the screen and then looked up at him. He knelt on the seat, dropping his head to the headrest. "Don't tell him, okay?"

"Why not? It isn't a _bad_ thing." Teuvo plucked the phone from Sebastian's hands and held it out to Dougie, who grabbed it back and shoved it into his pocket as if it wasn't already too late. "It isn't like you are watching _dirty_ things." Teuvo gave a sharp side-eye to Sebastian and Dougie very much did not want to know the story behind that. At all. The fact that Sebastian didn't even have the decency to blush made it so much worse. 

"Just... don't say anything." He tried again, almost pleading this time. He watched his teammates glance between each other and saw a few of them nod. Not _everyone_ was gathered around, and he was grateful for that, but the biggest gossips were front and center, so it didn't really matter. He focused on Sebastian, the one most likely to bring it up. "I'm just not... ready." 

Sebastian held his hands up, "Okay, okay, I won't say anything."

Dougie sighed, "Thank you. And keep your hands off my phone." He didn't give him a chance to respond before turning around to sit in his seat, again repositioning Andrei so his head was back on his leg. 

Andrei murmured a little, and blinked his eyes open just a slit. "Куда ты ушел?" He mumbled as he shifted around to find the position he'd been in before. It still didn't look comfortable, but he sighed and closed his eyes as if it was. 

"I'm right here. Go back to sleep." Dougie wrapped his arm around him again and felt Andrei grab his hand. It didn't take a whole minute for his breathing to indicate he'd fallen back to sleep.

Dougie dropped his head against the headrest and sighed, crisis averted, at least for the moment. He pulled his phone out again, and turned his attention back to that annoying green owl.


End file.
